LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

@Wi#l n 

Shelf....R.4.if4. 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



kv 



UNITY. 



A Weekly Journal of 

Freedom, Fellowship and Character in 
Religion, 



Jenkin Lloyd Jones 
David N. Utter, 
James Vila Blake, 
Jabez T. Sunderlan 



>NES, "j 

CE, r 

LAND, J 



SSS&5& 



Associate Editors. 

W. C. Gannett, J. C. Learned, 
F. L. Hosmer, IT. M. Simmons, 
C. \V. Wendte, 



Chas. IT. Kerr, Office Editor. 



TTNITY seeks to adjust religion and culture; 

^ to make thought worshipful and worship 
thoughtful; to find a unity beneath conflicting 
dogmas, a community in all denominations, 
a sympathy between all religions. I f seeks 
to represent and emphasize the abiding ele- 
ments of religion — love, justice, truth, wor- 
ship, practically applied among all men. 



PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY 

The Colegrove Book Co. 

135 Wabash Avenue, Chicago. 

$1.50 per TTecor. 



UNITY 
SONGS RESUNG 



UNITY 



SONGS RESUNG 



COMPILED BY C. H. K 



/ 



CHICAGO 
THE COLEGROVE BOOK COMPANY 

135 Wabash Avenue 
1885 



&** 



COPYRIGHT BY 

CHARLES H. KERR 

1885 



Soft in my hand is a lyre 
Graven deep on a shell ; 
One of a mystic choir, 
Singing in parable : 

" Swing I in the Southern Sea, 
"Sjieak I to the Southern Sun, 
"And the Southern Shores with me 
"Shout in unison. 

" God built me ages ago 

" Low in his living creed ; 

" Washed by the ebb and the flow, 

" Wave and the iveed. 

"Not to thyself alone, 
" Live to the higher call, 
" Each is the other's own, 
" Lo ! I am all" 

John Tims. 



NOTE. 

The poems in the present collection 
were published in Unity between De- 
cember, 1879, and March, 1885. Thanks 
are due to the several authors for their 
kind permission to use their verses in this 
volume; and the right to republish sepa- 
rate poems is in each case reserved to the 
author. 

In justice to all concerned, the compiler 
would say that while he has gladly prof- 
ited by the advice of the editors of Unity 
and others, he is still solely responsible 
for the selection and arrangement of all 
contained in the following pages. 



"GREEN PASTURES AND STILL 
WATERS." 

Clear in memory's silent reaches 

Lie the pastures I have seen, 
Greener than the sun-lit spaces 

Where the May has flung her green : 
Needs no sun and needs no star-light 

To illume these fields of mine, 
For the glory of dead faces 

Is the sun, the stars, that shine. 

More than one I count my pastures 

As my life-path groweth long ; 
By their quiet waters straying 

Oft I lay me, and am strong. 
And I call each by its giver ; 

And the dear names bring to them 
Glory as from shining faces 

In some new Jerusalem. 



10 GREEN PASTURES. 

Yet, O well I can remember, 

Once I called my pastures, Pain ; 
And their waters were a torrent 

Sweeping through my life amain ! 
Now I call them Peace and Stillness, 

Brightness of all Haj>py Thought, 
Where I linger for a blessing 

From my faces that are naught. 

Naught? I fear not! If the Power 

Maketh thus his pastures green, 
Maketh thus his quiet waters, 

Out of waste his heavens serene, 
I can trust the mighty Shepherd 

Loseth none he ever led ; 
Somewhere yet a greeting waits me 

On the faces of my dead ! 

W. C. Gannett. 



THE CREED. 

Who ever was begotten by pure love 
And came desired and welcome into life 
Is of Immaculate Conception. He 
Whose heart swells full of tenderness and 

trust, 
Who loves mankind more than he loves 

himself, 
And can not find room in his heart for 

hate, 
May be another Christ : we all may be 
The Saviors of the world, if we believe 
In the DiviDity which dwells in us, 
And worship It, and nail our grosser 

selves, 
Our tenrpers, greeds, and our unworthy 

aims 
Upon the cross. Who giveth love to all, 



12 THE CREED. 

Pays kindness for unkindness, smiles for 

frowns, 
And lends new courage to each fainting 

heart, 
And strengthens hope, and scatters joy 

abroad, 
He, too, is a Redeemer, Son of God. 

Ella Wheeler Wilcox. 



FATHEB, TO THEE. 

Father, to Thee we look in all our sorrow, 
Thou art the fountain whence our heal- 
ing flows ; 
Dark though the night, joy cometh with 
the morrow; 
Safely they rest who on thy love repose. 

When fond hopes fail, and skies are dark 
before us, 
When the vain cares that vex our life 
increase, — 
Comes with its calm the thought that thou 
art o'er us, 
And we grow quiet, folded in thy peace. 

Naught shall affright us on thy goodness 
leaning, 
Low in the heart faith singeth still her 
song; 



14 FATHER, TO THEE. 

Chastened by pain we learn life's deeper 
meaning, 
And in our weakness thou dost make us 
strong. 

Patient, heart, though heavy be thy 
sorrows ! 
Be not cast down, disquieted in vain ; 
Yet shalt thou praise Him when these 
darkened furrows, 
Where now He ploweth, wave with 

golden grain. 

F. L. Hosmer. 

August, 1881. 



WAIT ON THE LOKD. 

Wait on the Lord ! Be of good courage and He 
shall strengthen thy heart. Wait, I say, on the 
Lord. Psalm xxvii. 14. 

Upon the Psalmist's word 

A Rabbin's voice is heard 

Commenting, saying 

To sonls praying, 

" Ora, 

Et iterum ora; 

Veniet hora 

Qua Ubi dabiUir." 

I hear a Master's speech 
The same faith teach — 
A Master dear to heart, 
Standing far apart, 
So great, so high above, 
And yet with lowly men 
Living, in toil and pain, 



16 WAIT ON THE LORD. 

In meekness and in love. 

He saith, "Ask, it shall be given; 

Seek, ye shall find in heaven ; 

Knock, it shall opened be." 

But not so sweet to know 

The Master's lips have spoken thus or so 

As my soul leaps to see 

He speaketh like to all the holy men : 

And softly comes again, 

Like an echo in my ear, 

The song of Hebrew seer, 

" Ora, 

Et iterum ora ; 

Veniet hora 

Qua tibi dabitur." 

O when the soul is faint, 

Wkeu visions die, 

When life is wrecked upon complaint, 

And scattered he 

Hope's arrows — years long, 

With purpose strong, 

Kept bound within one sheaf — 

When pain and loss and grief 

Prey on us, 

When thought and doubt and love 



WAIT ON THE LORD. 17 

Weigh on us, 

Then hear, all sounds above, 

" Ora, 

Et iterum ora ; 

Veniet hora 

Qua tibi dabitur" 

James Vila Blake. 



LOYALTY. 

When courage fails, and faith burns low, 

And men are timid grown, 
Hold fast thy loyalty, and know 

That Truth still moveth on. 

For unseen messengers she hath 

To work her will and ways, 
And even human scorn and wrath 

God turneth to her praise. 

She can both meek and lordly be, 

In heavenly might secure ; 
With her is pledge of victory, 

And patience to endure. 

The race is not unto the swift, 

The battle to the strong, 
When dawn her judgment-days that sift 

The claims of right and wrong. 



LOYALTY. 19 

And more than thou canst do for Truth 

Can she on thee confer, 
If thou, O heart, but give thy youth 

And manhood unto her. 

For she can make thee inly bright, 

Thy self-love purge away, 
And lead thee in the path whose light 

Shines to the perfect day. 

Who follow her, though men deride, 
In her strength shall be strong ; 

Shall see their shame become their pride, 
And share her triumph-song ! 

F. L. Hosmer. 



"NOT AS I WILL." 

With eyes undimmed by mist of tears 

I try to pierce the coming years 

And read through all the doubts and fears 

My onward way. 
I see the cross I needs must bear, 
So near, that round me all the air 
Is heavy with a weight of care, 
That clouds the day. 

I had a thought that Love divine 
Destined this wavering heart of mine 
For worship at a nobler shrine 

Than self alone ; 
And evermore the longing grew 
For inner life more pure and true — 
More joy in duties old and new 

Than I had known. 



NOT AS I WILL. 21 

With face turned toward the Perfect Day 
I tried to hasten on the way, — 
But just before me, cold and grey, 

I saw this cross : 
It seemed as if my heart stood still, 
So dulled with fear were heart and will 
By this sick dread and sudden chill 

Of bitter loss. 

1 felt that if I stretched my hand 
To take this cross, in all the land 
No one more desolate would stand, 

More sad than I, — 
That all my thoughts of nobler deeds, 
Of ministry to others' needs, 
Of mental growth, not bound by creeds, 

Must faint and die. 

To take, not give, must be my lot, 
And plans for action all forgot 
My life must pass, recorded not 

By deeds of good. 
I turned aside and would no;: see 
The cross, but strove most earnestly 
To make my life as high and free 

As mortal could. 



22 NOT AS 1 WILL. 

Yet all the time a vague unrest 
Dwelt in my heart, though unconfessed, 
And that strange fear within my breast 

Would never cease; — 
Till now at last I dimly see 
That God has sent this cross to me, 
And bearing it all patiently 

May bring me peace. 

I do not cheat my heart and say, — 
" Perhaps this grief may pass away," 
I know in all my life that day 

Can never come ; 
But now I see with eyes more clear 
Unnumbered blessings left me here — 
These kindly faces, love most dear, 

A quiet home. 

Perhaps some day I yet may own 
That this same cross I bear alone 
Has led me in a way unknown 

To something higher — 
And wonder why, so weak and blind, 
I strove against this message kind : 
" Rest in the Lord, and thou shalt find 

Thy heart's desire." 
1882 . Emma E. Marean. 



TRUSTING. 

High on a bough of the rocking tree 
A bird's nest swung, with its fledglings 

three. 
The wind blew high and the wind blew 

low, 
But never their hearts were afraid. Did 

they know 
That not a wayward sparrow should fall 
To the earth, but the Father was in it all ; 
And that their home was as true a part 
Of the plan of the universe, fixed and 

high, 
As the stars that shone from the distant 

sky? 
The wind may lay the forest low : 
No harm can come to them, they know, 
Cradled upon the Over-Heart. 

Lily A. Long. 



IN THE KING'S NAME. 

"In the King's name!" will say 

Some day the Shadow grim. 

And we all silently 

Shall straightway follow him, 

Rending the veil away ; 

" As through a glass " to see 

No more, with vision dim. 

What shall our eyes behold 

When once that veil is lift? 

A new Jerusalem 

With radiant wails that sift 

Heaven's glory through many a gem, 

With shining streets of gold 

And the angels walking in them ? 

Or will the heavenly scene 
Be such as here we know ? — 
The heavenly mansions be, 
Perchance not all aglow 



IN THE KING'S NAME. 25 

With gold and glitter and sheen — 
But radiant ivith love that we 
Have known before — below! 

Dear Lord, if this might be! — 
That it might be the same 
Dear home that in bygone days 
Made Earth an Eden below! — 
How gladly would I go 
When the Shadow with veiled face 
Bade come " In the King's Name!" 

Alice Williams Brotherton. 



DEATH. 

Why should we tremble at the thought of 
death ? 
Is living, then, such fair, unblemished 

bliss, 
That with such misery we press the 
kiss 
The last upon the lips that have no breath ? 

Is living, then, such unalloyed delight, 
That when we lay the lifeless form away, 
The form that now is naught but sense- 
less clay, 

We feel such grief as darkens all the light ? 

Is life, O heart, a great and priceless boon 
That we should lay it down with grief 
and fear ? 



DEATH. 27 

Are songs so free from jar and discord 
here, 
We cannot change them for a heavenly 
tune? 

Oh ! God forgive us for our blind distrust, 

Teach us the hardest lesson of our life — 

Submission ; teach us death ends all the 

strife, 

And new life springs, like violets, from the 

dust. 

Fanny Driscoll. 



THE OLD QUESTION. 

What sign of dumb entreaty lies within 
Those pale hands crossed in death ; 

What answer would those cold mute lips 
let fall 
If given sudden breath ? 

What light of wondrous meaning breaks 
upon 
That closely -lidded eye ; 
What great and untold mystery hides 
behind 
The simple phrase— To die ? 

Celia P. Woolley. 



THE OLD ANSWER TO THE OLD 
QUESTION. 

No sign of dumb entreaty will be seen 
When my hands cross in death; 

Nor with new breath could I an answer 
give 
More wondrous than this breath. 

No light of meaning then will break upon 

My closely -lidded eye; 
Nor mystery hide behind, more wonder- 
ful 

Than now before I die. 

Friend, I tell thee in thine and every 
face 
Are heavens so endless-vast, 
When once to take them in the eye opes 
wide, 
It sweeps before and past. 



30 THE OLD ANSWER. 

What things come but are hidden in what 
go? 
What go, but draw what come ? 
Food is the rock's heart, light darkles, 
song is whist, 
And very speech sounds dumb. 

James Vila Blake. 



MY DEAD. 

I cannot think of them as dead 
Who walk with me no more ; 

Along the path of Life I tread, 
They have but gone before. 

The Father's house is mansioned fair 

Beyond my vision dim ; 
All souls are his, and here or there, 

Are living unto him. 

And still their silent ministry 
Within my heart hath place, 

As when on earth they walked with me 
And met me face to face. 

Their lives are made forever mine ; 

What they to me have been 
Hath left henceforth its seal and sign 

Engraven deep within. 



32 MY DEAD. 

Mine are they by an ownership 
Nor time nor death can free ; 

For God hath given to Love to keep 
Its own eternally. 

F. L. Hosmer. 



"AND ENOCH WALKED WITH 
GOD." 

O thou, who in time's morning walked 

with God, 
Nor heeded that the world-paths crossed 

thine own, 
Who, listening to the music shed abroad 
By that One Voice, heard not the other's 

tone 
Mocking at him who walked, or seemed 

to walk alone — 

Tell us, who long to know, what converse 
sweet 

Fell from your lips, what troubled ques- 
tions lay 

Answered and clear ere thou couldst 
frame them meet, 

In that bright light of Truth, the Perfect 
Day, \ 

Where tangled problems smooth and solve 
themselves away. 



34 ENOCH. 

Didst know what field-flowers fluttered 

'neath the hern 
Of thy long garment, or what birds of 

song 
Circled around thee, or what light wind 

came, 
Lifting thy locks, the while ye walked 

along, 
Seen and unseen, the marveling world 

among ! 

Vain questioning! for answer as thou 

mightst, 
Our ears are holden that we may not hear ; 
The soul that walks with God upon the 

heights 
Hath secrets voiceless to the ahen ear ; 
To him who is of God, the things of God 

are clear. 

Mary W. Plummer. 



OUTWARD BOUND. 

Ho, vessel outward bound, 
Sailing on with never sound 

Of plashing oar or creaking sail! 

Whither art thou going? 
Toward the Unknown Shore 
Many ships have fared before, 

But no returning gale 

From that land is blowing! 

Alas! of any part 

Of that ocean there's no chart; 

Unseen hands upon the rudder 

Through the drift and wrack 
Guide the vessel on her way, 
Underneath this sky of grey ; 

And thy Captain with sealed orders 

Sails upon the track. 



36 OUTWARD BOUND. 

Mariner, dost thou not fear? 
Waves are high and skies are drear. 

Who can tell what unknown danger 

Thy frail bark may whelm ? 
" Nay, no evil shall betide 
Though the sea be deep and wide, 

Hope Divine's my Captain, stranger, 

Faith is at the helm." 

"Sealed our orders? But no less 
This much of the truth we guess — ■ 

That we seek a port Elysian, 

City of the Blest. 
Far beyond this Outre Mer 
Lies a land surpassing fair, 

Faith hath seen it in rapt vision, 

Men call it Heavenly Best! " 

Alice Williams Brotherton. 



THE HEAET PRAYEB. 

Oh God, Thy power and gentleness 
Are over all to guide and bless; 
In all I know Thy love is shown 
But more in that to me unknown. 

The gentlest song at close of day 
Hath countless echoes deeper far 
Than I may hear. But voiceless are 
The melodies to Thee most dear. 

Day shines in glory, down for me; 
But Thou dost know a milder light : 
Night's deepest shade is light to Thee. 

Clinging upon its mother's breast , 
The drowsing infant fondly pressed 
Thinks not by studied phrase to bring 
Thy spirit's gentle shadowing. 



38 THE HEART PRAYER. 

Mysterious whisperings where I go 
Speak in the days of good and ill : 
"Whisperings from Thee. I bow, and grow 
Obedient to Thy unknown will. 

Oh God, help all to pray ! and then 
Help most the heart too sore to say, 
"Thy will, not mine, be done. Amen." 
J. N. Sprigg. 



BEFOEE THE DAWN. 

Dear Lord, I briug to Thee 
This life that from Thine own its being 

drew ; 
Ail I have been, all aspirations new, 
All I may ever be. 

I lay at Thy dear feet 
My past, with all its hopes and cares and 

needs, 
Its purposes, that failed like broken reeds, 

Its record incomplete. 

This tangled web of mine 
Wherein I find so little good or fair, 
May yet, if trusted to Thy love and care, 

Take on a light divine. 

The weary sense of wrong, 
Which through the long, long night main- 
tained its sway, 



40 BEFORE THE DAWN. 

Has vanished in the light of breaking 
day, 

And left instead a song. 

And " through the glass " I see 
That even my mistakes, my faults and 

siris, 
Have taught me how Thy comforting be- 
gins 

And shown the way to Thee. 

My future, Lord, I bring— 
May it be purified by Thy dear love, 
Although the sacred baptism from above 

Be one of suffering. 

What harm can ever come 
To us, who know Thy love can have no 

end? 
Thou leadest us, an ever-present Friend. 

Unto the light of Home. 

How all these wrongs we see 
Can lead to right, I do not understand; 
But, e'er the daylight breaks, I clasp Thy 
hand 

And trust myself to Thee. 

Emma E, Marean, 



WATER LILIES. 

Upon the surface of the river lie 
White water lilies; left to drift they seein, 
Yet changing winds and currents they 
defy. 

So may my faith, deep-rooted, rest secure 
Upon the surface of life's running stream, 
And every change of circumstance en- 
dure. 

Wm. S. Lord. 



VICTORY THROUGH SUFFERING. 

The breeze that over Calvary blew, 

And caught the Sufferer's tender prayer 
Still breathes and echoes in the air, 

"Forgive! they know not what they do!" 

Who then will say that men should mourn, 
And mourn as one without a hope, 
When, falling on the ujDward slope, 

They seem like dead leaves downward 
borne ? 

Who constant mount are not the men 
Who know the nobleness of life ; 
But they who beauty learn through 
strife, 
And they who fall to rise again. 

James H. West. 



CHKIST "REJECTED." 

Nay, not rejected — but undeified. 
The miracle left out of my belief, 
I find him greater comfort in my grief, 

And bring him even closer to my side. 

Since He was mortal, even as am I, 

And yet so God-like, may not I control 
My earthly nature, and lift up my soul 

To Christ's own perfect standard, if I try ? 

I hold that He stands nearer to all men 
And fills a higher and more useful place 
Than when He wore a supernatural 
grace. 
" What man has done, that man may do 
again." 

Say not that I reject Him. He is mine — 
My spirit-guide, my counsel, and my 

brother — 
Nearer to me, by far, than any other. 
A mortal man ? Yes, iu his life divine. 
Ella Wheeler Wilcox. 



IN HIM. 

Though the bee 
Miss the clover, 
Fly it by and know it not ; 
Though the sea 
Wash not over 
On the sands a wounded spot ; 
Heart, O heart! 
Thou wilt part 
From the All-hold on thee, and lose thy 
way, 

Never, never; 
Nor wilt sever 
Thy sweet life from the life of night and 
day. 

Thou in him 
Liest as dim 
As yellow wings in golden atmosphere, 
Or in the sea each watery spiritual sphere. 
James Vila Blake. 



A PRAYER 

Our Father, thou strange unknown All in 

all, 
Thou Source and Light and Lif9 of all 

that is, 
To Thee we men and women would lift 

up 
Our hearts, our souls, ourselves. We 

would become 
More sweet, more brave, more true, we 

would inspire 
Our souls with loftier purposes and aims, 
Our hearts with tenderer love and charity. 
Like mountain birds who soar o'er highest 

peaks, 
So we would soar above this sensuous life, 
Up, up to Thee. 



46 A PRAYER. 

Nay! nay! 
Hear not that prayer, O loving Father 

God; 
But, like the living Gods — Thy sons — we 

are, 
May we have sight to see, in sensuous life, 
Thyself, ourselves, the wondrous, strange, 

Divine. 
May our sealed eyes unclose, and in all 

life, 
In flower and tree, in bird and grazing 

kine, 
Yea ! in the very stones beneath our feet, 
May we behold the Deep Inscrutable. 

O God, O Allah, Father, Mother-soul, 
More faith in Thee and in Thy sons we 

crave ; 
More trust and peace and sweet security 
Of loving children, wrapped in loving 

arms. 
Our souls forget Thy presence; think of 

Thee 
As far away, unknown, almost unreal. 
We would tear off this veil ; we would be 

sure 



A PRAYER. 47 

That Thou art now and here and every- 
where, 
And aught but Thee is not. 

"Unknown?" Aye! so, 
All, all unknown ; yet that Thou art we 

know. 
Yea ! God, within ourselves, within our 

souls, 
We feel Thy quickening Life. And freer 

way 
And purer air and clearer, fuller light 
For that Divine, uplifting God within, 
We would obtain. 

Thus men and women we, 
Close held within Thyself, unto Thyself, 
And for Thyself do pray. 

Edwin G. Broivn. 



I AM SO WEAK. 

Father, I am so weak ! 

Let me Thy presence feel, 
Take now my tired hands in Thine 

And bless me as I kneel. 

Eenew my failing strength, 

And teach me how to rise, 
And, bearing all my heavy load, 

To seek thy bluer skies. 

Let me not wait nor stay, 

Nor to the past return, 
But kindle still my fainting heart 

With zeal anew to burn, 

Till I shall see Thy love 

In every cross I bear; 
And, keeping close my hands in Thine, 

Shall trust Thee everywhere. 

J. E. McCaine. 



PAIN. 

Pain came at nightfall, and she stayed till 

morn. 
Her brow was heavy and her eyes were 

wet 
And resolute. Her tender lips were set ; 
She came and had no word, but was 

forlorn, 
This child of earth— earth' s loveliest, earli- 
est born. 
Along her path no wistful violet— 
The winds were out with sighing moan 

and fret — 
Her drooping form spoke man's embittered 

scorn. 
And still she crossed the threshold at the 

fall 
Of night, and stayed until the dawn's red 

rose 



50 PAIN. 

Bloomed in the east, and, at the blithe 

gay call 
Of larks uprising, swift she went away, 
But left behind her, odorous as the May, 
A lasting peace, that from her sombre 

clothes 
Fell, like a star, and brought eternal day. 
Fanny Driscoll. 



"EEMISSION." 

There is no " sins' remission " granted 
men. 
The place we lose we can regain — in 
time. 
Not God himself can lift us back again 
Unto the height we left, until we climb. 

There is no swift repentence can retrieve 

A violated principle. No tears 
Can cleanse our stains, no crying " I be- 
lieve,"— 
Nay, we must ivear them out by ear- 
nest years. 

For each descent from fair truth's lofty 
way, 
For each gross pleasure which delays 
the soul, 



52 REMISSION. 

By that soul's gloom and loneliness we 

And by the retarded journey to its goal. 

We can go back, we can regain the height, 

But not by sudden leaps ; our souls are 

strong, 

And countless forces help us to do right 

When once we weary of the ways of 

wrong. 

Ella Wheeler Wilcox. 



THE CHILDKEN'S SEEVICE. 

From the German of Karl Gerok. 

The church-beils for service are ringing, 
The father and mother have gone; 

And three little golden-haired children 
Are left in the door- way alone. 

For th'ise are too young for the meeting — 
The busy and frolicsome elves — 

So they think to praise God like their 
elders 
With a holy -time all by themselves! 

Each one a big volume has taken 

And holds it top-down 'gainst the 
breast; 

Forthwith the devout little mimics 
Sing out in their loudest and best! 



54 THE CHILDREN'S SERVICE. 

They know not themselves what they're 
singing, 

And each takes a tune of his own : — 
Sing on, O ye children, your voices 

Are heard at the heavenly throne ! 

And there stand your angels in glory, 
While songs to the Father they raise, 

Who out of the mouths of the children 
Hath perfected worship and praise. 

Sing on ; over there in the garden 

There singeth an answering choir; 
'Tis the brood of light-hearted birdlings, 
That chirp in the bloom-laden brier. 

Sing on ; there is trust in your music — 
The Father, he asks not for more ; 

Quick flieth the heart that is sinless 
Like a dove to the heavenly door. 

Sing on; we sing who are older, 
Yet little we, too, understand; 

And our Bibles, how often we hold them 
The bottom-side up in our hand ! 

Sing on ; in the songs of our service 
We follow each note of the card; 



THE CHILDREN'S SERVICE. 55 

But alas, in our strife with each other 
How oft is the melody marred ! 

Sing on ; for earth's loftiest music 
Though ever so fine and so clear, 

What is it ? The lisping of children — 
A breath in the Infinite ear. 

F. L. Hosmer. 



PATIENCE. 

All are weak and all are strong ; 
Patience righteth every wrong. 
All good things the will must task, 
All achievement patience ask. 
Chiefly with each other's weakness 
Need we patience, love and meekness. 
Who takes ill another's ill 
Beareth two loads up the hill. 

James Vila Blake. 



ONE WOMAN'S WORK. 

" Who having little, yet hath all." 
A narrow sphere — how can you call it so? 
Three pairs of baby eyes look up in mine, 
And seem the gates through which a light 

divine 
Transfigures all my life with tenderest 

glow. 

Because I cannot paint with artist skill 
The changing colors of the sea and sky ; 
Because I cannot write of visions high 
And move you all with pain or joy at will ; 

Because to Learning's shrine no gifts I 

bring, 
Nor take a foremost stand for woman's 

cause ; 
Because I trust unquestioning the laws 
Which bring us snow pa. winter, birds in 

spring,— 



58 ONE WOMAN'S WORK. 

You think my life is circumscribed and 

cold 
In what should make it helpful, rich and 

strong. 
Ah, friend — these happy days are none too 

long 
For all the loving duties that they hold. 

Nor has the art you love been all denied, 
For loveliest pictures every day I see 
In childhood's careless grace and move- 
ments free, 
From waking morn till dreamy eventide. 

My Edith's braids, now brown, now 

golden bright, 
Imprison tints no artist's brush has 

known; 
The baby's deep blue eyes, Avhich meet 

my own, 
In living beauty mock all painted light. 

Nor do you know, my friend, the critics 

bold 
We story-tellers in our children find — - 
What store of wisdom and of wit combined 
We need to point a moral new or old. 



ONE WOMAN'S WORK. 59 

And in reforms are we not learning late 
A still, small voice need not be all in vain ? 
These tiny hands may hold great future 

gain, 
" They also serve who only stand and 

wait." 

And what in science or philosophy 
Can pass in interest a childish heart, 
Feeling its upward way to take its part 
For good or ill in Life's great mystery ? 

God help us mothers all to live aright, 
And let our homes all truth and love 

enfold, 
Feeling that life no loftier aims can hold 
Than leading little children to the light. 
Emma E. Marean. 



IN TWOS. 

Somewhere in the world there hide 
Garden- gates that no one sees 
Save they come in happy twos,— 
Not in ones, nor yet in threes 

But from every maiden's door 
Leads the pathway straight and true ; 
Maps and survey know it not, — 
He who finds, finds room for two ! 

Then they see the garden-gates! 
Never skies so blue as theirs, 
Never flowers so many -sweet, 
As for those who come in pairs. 

Bound and round the alleys wind: 
Now a cradle bars the way, 
Now a little mound, behind, — 
So the two go through the day. 



IN TWOS. 61 

When no nook in all the lanes 
But has heard a song or sigh, 
Lo ! another garden gate 
Opens as the two go by. 

In they wander, knowing not! 
" Five and Twenty! " fills the air 
With a silvery echo low, 
All about the startled pair. 

Happier yet these garden walks : 
Closer, heart to heart, they lean; 
Stiller, softer falls the light; 
Few the twos, and far between. 

Till, at last, as on they pass 
Down the paths so well they know, 
Once again at hidden gates 
Stand the two : they enter slow. 

Golden Gates of Fifty years, 
May our two your latchet press! 
Garden of the Sunset Land, 
Hold their dearest happiness! 



02 IN TWOS. 

Then a quiet walk again ; 
Then a wicket in the wall : 
Then one, stepping on alone, — 
Then two at the Heart of All! 

W. C. Gannett. 



WOOING AND WEDDING. 

WOOING. 

At last I spoke. O faint and sweet 

As a strain of distant song 
Was the smile that just touched mouth 
and eyes, 
As we two passed along 
Through sun and shade of yonder glade, 
Where early violets throng. 
It's " O love, my true love, 

And will you be my wife? 
Love like mine for you, love, 
Ends not even with life!" 

A sigh, a glance, a rosy blush, 

A softly whispered " Yes"- — 
And it seemed that all the joy of heaven 

Came down my soul to bless, 
In that first bliss of warm troth-kiss 

When lips to fond lips press. 
" And O love, my true love, 



64 WOOING AXD WEDDING. 

Be but true to me, 
As I to you, love, 
Evermore will be." 

"Sweet, sweet, sweet!" the wild birds 
trilled, 
A -building their tiny nest, 
And " Sweet, sweet," the brown bee hum- 
med 
As it swung on a clover crest, 
And " Sweet," sighed low a summer 
wind 
As it swooned on the rose's breast. 
And " O love, my true love, 

Strong are Time and Death, 
But love like mine for yon, love, 
They cannot change!" — he saitli. 

WEDDING. 

The soul, as Eastern Legends tell, 
Was once by Allah rent in twain, 

Made male and female, sent to dwell 
On earth : to taste of bliss and pain, 

To know both liberty and law, 
To love, to reason, to transgress — 



WOOING AND WEDDING. 65 

To learn all lessons that should draw 
It nearer Divine Perfectness. 

To some — for He is good — 'tis given 
To find this kindred half below; 

B.it other some, on this side heaven, 
Only divided life may know. 

In wedlock meeting, every soul 
Its other self again doth find — 

The rounded life, the perfect whole, 
The image of the omniscient Mind. 

And hand in hand the wedded pair 
Go forth to till the Earth anew, 

To make the home-place builded there 
The Eden their first parents knew. 

Helpmates — help-meef in every strife 
To bear the burden laid on each. 

The answer to the problem Life 
Not one alone, but two may reach. 

He learning of her moods at length 
To temper still his harshest thought ; 

She finding in his quiet strength 
The rest her weaker nature sought; 



66 WOOING AND WEDDING. 

Bearing, forbearing, day by day 
Serving each other, strong to bless 

And aid and comfort; so each may 
Learn the divine unselfishness. 

The little jars, the petty strife, 
In love that casteth out rej:>roach 

Are lost at length : the higher life 
Their spirits step by step approach. 

The two as one move ever — even 
As those the poet-mystic hailed, 

When to his vision rapt the heaven 
Of wedded spirits was unveiled. 

"I saw" (he saith) " an angel strong 
And bright, approaching ; but anear, 

When it alighted and erelong 

Rolled back the enfolding atmosphere, 

"Behold! I saw beside me stand 
Not one, but two, the j:erfect whole, 

The wedded spirit— hand in hand 
The Man-soul and the Woman-soul!" 
Alice Williams Brotherton. 



SEPTEMBEE TWENTY-FIFTH. 

Perhaps in all this cruel, changeful world 

There may be some who hate this blessed 
day 

Because it brought them terror and dis- 
may, 

Or from some seat of fortune found them 
hurled ; 

Or some, with joy's bright banner closely 
furled, 

May keep the day in sadness, giving way 

To grievous tears, that burn as deep to- 
day 

As when from sorrow's source they first 
were whirled. 

Oh, you who hate the day, and speak it 

ill,_ 
Be sure it brought a gem beyond all 

price; 



68 SEPTEMBER TWENTY-FIFTH. 

And you who weep, uncomforted, be 

still,— 
An angel came this day from paradise; 
Upon this day my dearest love was born — 
The rarest jewel day hath ever worn. 

Wm. S. Lord. 



HIS EEVEEIE. 



"We two, shut in by the wind and the 

weather 
That shakes the elm-tree against the pane 
And folds us two the closer together. 

The light leaps up to the loops of hair 
That touch her ear so daintily molded, 
Or circles her throat in a fleet caress 
And sinks to the hands serenely folded. 

I watch the face that I know so well, 
The face where my fortune and destiny 

hover, 
And the thoughts that arise in her dreamy 

eyes 
And curve her lips, I would fain discover. 

So near, I can see the stir of the lace 
That gently lifts at her heart's soft beat- 
ing; 



70 HIS REVERIE. 

So dear, that, only there is no need, 
My heart would forever one word be 
repeating. 

Yet her soul knows a pathway that I 

cannot tread 
To the mountains of thought lying high 

and lonely, 
And yearn as I may she slips away 
To a realm that is closed unto me — me 

only. 

Though we sit in the light of the self-same 

fire, 
While the storm folds us close and the 

wild wind is calling, 
The light of the summit is on her brow 
And T stand alone where the shadows are 

falling. 

If I speak— I know her ways so well — 
She will turn with a smile that has caught 

its sweetness 
From the starry heights where her soul 

has fed, 
And will lean to me in my incompleteness, 



HIS REVERIE. 71 

With a love that would draw ine up to her 

side ; 
Or, failing that, in a glad surrender 
Would yield all part in a wealth unshared, 
And joy in the self-abnegation tender. 

Yet never be mine the hand to weld 
The links, howe'er light, for her soul's 

enslaving ; 
In loving at least I may reach her height, 
Nor blot my best by a selfish craving. 

I but clasp her hand in my own and wait 
While her soul tries its wings, like a bird 

upward yearning, 
For I know that her heart will restore her 

to me. 
Like the bird to the love of its low nest 

returning. 

Lily A. Long. 



THE WAYS OF LOVE. 

From out a wintry sky did sudden gleam 
Of sunshine reach a violet where it grew, 
That grateful sprang to meet the tender 

beam; 
Unfolding all her leaves of delicate hue, 
And shedding perfume in a fragrant 

stream ; 
But ere her beauty opened to the view, 
Descending clouds dispelled such blissful 

dream ; 
Nor ever more than that caress she knew. 

And thus doth love awake the slumbering 

heart 
To quick response; it opens like a flower 
Whilst thousand aspirations yet unknown 
Burst into life in one all tremulous hour. 
They shall not die! but higher aims 

inspire, 
And flow in noble deeds, though love hath 

flown. 

Samuel Baxter Foster. 



TO KATHEEINE. 

Oh, tender, trustful face and steady eyes, 
The angels must have kissed thee in thy 



And through the slow hours of the weary 

day 
That gentle talisman thou still dost keep. 

Through lowliest ways of life thou wan- 

derest, 
A Una, clothed in peace and patience 

sweet, 
And lo, the darksome forest is thy 

friend, 
And Discord crouches reverent at thy feet. 

As shell within its tiny spiral holds 
The everlasting murmur of the sea, 
The music that controls the circling 

spheres 
Finds room to round its harmony in thee. 
Lily A. Long. 



SUKSTTM COED A. 

Hast ever seen a lover die, 

And witnessed then the sky 

Beam upon his closing eve 

Its utmost immortality ? 

I have — in dreams — and thus he died: 

He took her hand and said, 

"Hcarfs-dear, heart's-joy, heart's-pride, 

Soon I shall be what men call dead ; 

And thou, sweet bosom-friend, wilt stand 

beside, 
And see me grow all white, 
And a strange, wondrous light 
Issue and hover; yea, and me, 
Whom thou didst never grand or glorious 

see, 
Thou wilt behold filled with the majesty 
Which death works in the face. 
Come close down, close, into thy place, 
Darling, upon my breast, 



SURSUM CORDA. 75 

While I do speak to thee, my true, my 

blest. 
And now I tell thee, dear, 
I do not nor I cannot fear : 
For in God's world can be no change 
That will be foreign, alien, strange 
To the humblest of his creatures; 
But everything will come with features 
Familiar, haK-known before, half-seen ; 
And to me, dying, death will be 
What to me, living, life hath been — 
All natural and sweet and good, 
Like any simple habitude. 
Even if I die to live no more, 
'Twill be as waves break on the shore, 
That knew not their full voice before, 
And, while they think how blithe they 

roar, 
Sink back with music in the sea. 
And yet, this more I say to thee, 
My soul desires to live. 
There are some who think it faith, 
Some who call it strength, 
When on this lovely earth 
Life hath run out its length, 
To say they care not whether death 



76 SURSUM CORDA. 

Be continuance, like a birth, 

Or a forgetting in an endless sleej). 

But I count it deeper faith 

Strongly to hold and wish to keep 

The rich life God doth give. 

Is it life that loves not living? 

So far as life's glories thrill 

In my reason, in my will, 

So far as my soul is health 

To feel the greatness and the wealth 

Of life's rapture, having, giving; — 

So far doth a holy fire 

Flame up in me with desire, 

And seize on everlastingness. 

I cannot reckon any less 

God's living gift of blessedness. 

And this more I say : if me 

All life's other wealth could give 

No high desire, still I would wish to live 

For the greatness of loving thee. 

Bend close, dear, close, and on the tide 

Thou wilt, a little way, go by my side." 

Thus — in my dream — a lover died. 

James Vila Blake. 



VINETA. 

From the German of Wilhelm Mueller. 

From the still mysterious depths of ocean 
Vesper bells are ringing sweet and low, 

Bringing to us tidings from the city 
Sunk beneath the waters long ago. 

Quaint and lovely lies the city hidden 
Underneath the waves which guard its 
walls — 

Only sometimes comes a golden shimmer 
Of reflected light from castle halls. 

And the boatman, who at early evening 
Once has caught that gleam of magic 
light, 
Rows his skiff around the spot forever, 
Though the cliffs above frown dark as 
night. 



78 VI NET A. 

From my heart's mysterious undercurrent 
Comes a silver chiming sweet and low, 

And it seems to bring me tender greetings 
From the love who loved me long ago. 

An enchanted world lies hid forever 
Underneath my life's dull ebb and flow, 

Only sometimes comes like light from 
heaven 
To my dreams this faint reflected glow. 

And I long to sink beneath the waters — 
Lose myself in that reflection bright, 

For it seems as if the angels called me 
Back into that world of love and light. 
Emma E. Marean. 



LOVE. 

A word went forth upon the summer wind 
Melodious falling on the dewy air, 
As pure as early snowdrop, and as fair — 
A benediction to our human kind. 
Deep- sounding through the ages we shall 

find 
This word bring consolation everywhere — 
A subtle charm for sorrow or dull care ; 
The clouds become indeed all silver- lined ! 

Thrice blessed be the zephyr that has 

brought 
Such tidings from the far-off secret 

realm — 
A message linking earth to heaven above. 
Our life-ship cannot wreck with this sweet 

thought — 
This gleaming talisman upon its helm : 
O sweet and low the morning wind said — 

Love. 

Samuel Baxter Foster. 



ASTEK AND GOLDENEOD. 

Aster looks with purple eyes 

Upward, shy and sweet; 
Goldenrod, with kingly mien, 

Cairn and gracious and serene, 
Smiles upon her as she leans 

To his royal feet. 

Smoke has wreathed the autumn hills, 

Hazy, dreaming, dim; 
Amber glory fills the hollows, 

To the southward fly the swallows, 
Lazy butterfly, slow, follows 

O'er the slumb'rous rim. 



Aster, with her lovim 



eyes, 



Cares not for the dying 
Of the languid Indian days — 

Of the grand triumphal blaze 
In the mystic woodland ways 

Where the bees are flying. 






ASTER AND GOLDENROD. 81 

For her King doth love her well, 

Tenderly arid deep; 
Gives her golden crown and throne, 

Sceptre, kingdom, for her own — 
Then with kisses, they, alone, 

Fall on happy sleep. 

Fanny Driscoll. 



THE CATHEDRAL. 

Shelf over shelf the mountain rose; 
And, as we climbed, they seemed the stair 
That scales a minster's wall to seek 
Some high-hid cell of prayer. 

And every stair was carpeted 

With mosses soft of grey and green, 

Where gold and crimson arabesques 

Trailed in and out between. 

\ 
Up, up, o'er ferny pavements still 

And dim mosaics of the wood, 

The rocky terraces we trod, 

Till on the heights we stocd. 

About the ancient mountain- walls 
The silent wildernesses clung ; 
In solemn frescoes, moving slow, 
The clouds their shadows flung. 



THE CATHEDRAL. 83 

Along the valley far below, 
The shimmer of a forest-floor,— 
A leafy brightness, like the sea 
Wide twinkling o'er and o'er. 

Niched in the mighty minster, we, 
Beneath the dome of radiant blue: 
Cathedral -hush on every side, 
And worship breathing through! 

There came wild music on the winds, 
The chanting of the forest choir 
Shaken across the ranged hills 
As over a chorded lyre. 

Then pauses as for quiet prayer; 
And lulls in which the listeners heard 
Home-voices speak, and faces neared 
Swifter than any bird. 

Of Strength Eternal, by whose will 
The hills their steadfast places keep, 
Whose Eight is like the mountains high, 
Whose Judgments are a deep, 



84 THE CATHEDRAL. 

In grand old Bible verse we spoke : 
And following close, like echoes, sped 
The poems best beloved. The words 
Along the silence fled. 

The Silence, awful living Word, 
Behind all sound, behind all thought, 
Whose speech is Nature- yet-to-be, 
The Poem yet unwrought ! 

To us it spake within the soul, 
Through sense all strangely blent with 

sense ; 
The vision took majestic rhythm — 
We heard the firmaments! 

And listened, time and space forgot, 
As flowed the lesson for the day, — 
"Order is Beauty; Law is Love; 
Childlike his worlds obey." 

And all the heaven seemed bending down 
Above the shining earth's sweet face, 
Till in our hearts they touched : we felt 
The thrill of their embrace. 



THE CATHEDRAL. 85 

Then, in its peace, we wandered down 
Our rocky stair-case from the height : 
On dim mosaics of the wood 
We met the climbing Night. 

W. C. Gannett 

SUNDAY on "Bald Cap," Shelborne, 
Sept., 1876. 



ON THE MOUNT. 



Not always on the mount may we 
Rapt in the heavenly vision be ; 
The shores of thought and feeling know 
The Spirit's tidal ebb and flow. 



ibiding here — 



Lord, it is g 
We cry, the heavenly presence near : 
The vision vanishes, our eyes 
Are lifted into vacant skies ! 



Yet hath one such exalted hour 

Upon the soul redeeming power, 

And in its strength through weary days 

We travel our appointed ways. 

The mount for vision, — but below 
The paths of daily duty go, 
Wherein a nobler life shall own 
The pattern on the mountain shown. 

F. L. Hosmer. 



MOODS. 

Darkly now the waters flow 
Through life's river, sad and slow; 
Clouds of doubt and gloomy dread 
Lie reflected in its bed. 
All my hopes before me flee; 
Life's success is not for me; 
Writ, in colors of despair, 
Failure, failure, everywhere. 

Away! away with care! 
I mount ! I fly ! 
On unseen wings I reach the upper air 
The soul within me sings: — 
I am oi.e with all beautiful things 

In the earth and the sky ; 
One with the stars that glow, 
With the ocean's ebb and flow 

Mingled am I; 
One with the flood divine, 



3 MOODS. 

Flowing through the heart of time, 

Filling the whole ; 
Shaping the rolling s])heres, 
Molding through countless years 

Each human soul; 
Nothing can do ine harm 
While the eternal arm 

Holds me secure; 
All else may pass away, 
Fade with the fading day, 

Love shall endure. 

J. E. McCaine, 



REVERIE. 

A lulling plash upon niy senses falls ; 
The day is almost clone, and twilight near; 
The sunshine streams across the orchard 

walls 
Upon the silver lake that flashes clear. 

My boat is moored against the dusk green 

shore, 
And rocks with every wind that touches 

it; 
Across the waves two sea-gulls dip and 

soar, 
And then into the dim blue distance flit. 

A ripple, and a murmur, and a gleam, 
A soft pale-azure cloud, and golden haze — 
Thus do I close the summer with a 

dream — 
Thus do I crown with dreams the dying 

days. 

Fanny Driscoll. 



A WINDOW PICTURE. 

Set in my window's oaken frame 

Is a picture learned when my years 
were few, 
Dear it has grown, as my eyes have gazed 

On it, and on it, the long years through. 
A glimpse of sea with a rocky shore, 

And a light-house, looming high and 
grand, 
In dim perspective hills of blue, 

And autumn woods upon either hand. 

Over it all a cloud-flecked sky, 

Where light and shadow alternate reign, 
And a tangled garden close at hand, 

Unt ended, save by the sun and rain. 
I have seen the picture these many years, — 

It is ever and never the very same, 
On no two days lies the light alike, 

It shifts and changes, like thought or 
flame. 



A WINDOW PICTURE. 91 

But to-day within its oaken frame 

Lies a Claude Lorraine of rarest hues, 
Mellowed, as if by time's cool touch, 

The glowing colors they interfuse. 
For a haze rests on the hills of blue, 

And a film is over the waters spread, 
And the purple glooms of the distant 
woods 

Are soft with a thought of the summer 
sped. 

Over the pomp of the autumn woods, 

The roadside's sumach and goldenrod, 
The garden's masses of aster and phlox, 

The ripening glories of tree and sod, 
A mellowing veil has been lightly laid, 

And the picture softened, subdued, now 
seems 
Fair as the visions of saints and seers 

In their AjDocalyptic dreams. 

Autumn glories of earth and air! 

Mists that encircle a thousand hills ! 
Distance that beckons, and distance that 
lures ! 

Soul of the solitude ! Being that fills 



92 



A W1ND0 W PICTURE. 



All of the earth with thy presence and 
power, 
To my spirit at last is given the clew, 
Thou art the glory we never conld name, 
Thou art the Beauty we worshipped nor 
knew. 

Hattie Tyng Grisivokl. 



SHADOWS. 

Over the meadow of bending grass 

Hurry the sunset shadows fleet; 
Lightly they scale the garden wall, 
They cling to the sunflowers, straight and 
tall, 

And cradle the clovers at their feet. 

They capture the roses, heavy with sleep, 
They fling all the banners of Eve- 
ning free, 
They chase the last sunbeams among the 

trees 
As, slowly retreating, the Daylight flees, 
And troop from the West over wold 
and lea. 

They peep through the panes of the farm- 
house old, 

And dance in a weary woman's 
eyes; 



94 SHADO I 

But, like the man the Pilgrim found, 
She evermore bends to rake the ground, 
Blind to the glories of sunset skies. 

They fly to the field where the farmer 
binds 

The heavy grain through the sum- 
mer day. 
By the creed of toil he shapes his life ; 
What cares he for the merry strife 

Of idle shadows that dare to play ? 

They climb the hill to the churchyard 
lone 

Where ever and ever the soft winds 
pass, 
Where the skies bend low on summer 

eves, 
And the still dews fall, and the shadows 
of leaves 

Weave their mystical runes on the 
grass. 

And the simple beauty the living scorned 
Enfolds the dead, whose day is 
done, 



SHADOWS. 95 

Rebuking with sileut eloquence 
The careless blindness of soul and sense 
That shut life's windows against 
the sun. 

Oh, the lives that drag through threescore 
years 

And come to the end with empty 
hands ! 
Oh, the days that come and the days that 

go, 

The suns that rise and the winds that 
blow, 

Waste as the rain on desert sands ! 

The night comes down over farm and hill, 
Gathering all to its tender breast, 
And while the steadfast stars on high 
Lean and look from the brooding sky, 

It hushes the weary world to rest. 
Lily A. Long. 



POEM AND DOGMA. 

'Twas Schliemann back from Troy, 
With relics bronze and gold: 

Where other eyes saw violets, 
His saw the city old. 

And, fondling a brown skull, — 
" My learned friend," said he, 

" Tells me that this a maiden's was, 
In Troy beyond the sea; 

" And from these angles here 
Of brow and cheek-bone fine, 

He judges that my maiden was 
A creature quite divine." 

"Ah, yes!" he added low, 

" Virchow was right just there, 

For all the maidens of old Troy 
Were beautiful and rare!" 



POEM AND DOGMA. 97 

By summer chance we met, 

And sat in chatting mood : 
One said, " How noble Jesus' word 

In that Beatitude!" 

" Ah, yes!" chimed in a friend, 

" You speak it truly there, 
For all that Jesus said or was, 

Was right beyond compare." 

" And Paul," said one, "was wrong ; 

How far from light he trod!"— 
" But then you know," my lady chirped, 

" 'Tis all the Word of God!" 



The artlessness the same ! 

But why should tears half-start 
Over the fabled beauty gone, ■ 

Poem of German heart; 

While, with half-angry thought, 

I smile away the creed 
Of fabled beauty they would fain 

Persuade me that I need? 



93 POEM AND DOGMA. 

Angry! who know their creeds 
Were poems too,— that died; 

That all the world's old dogmas are 
Its poems petrified! 

W. C. Gannett 

1881. 



A DAY IN SPRING. 

What a charm 
Does this calm and holy sunshine 
Give the farm. 

In the yard 
There are patches with the grass-flower 
Lightly starred. 

Dandelions 
Greet again these spared and aged 
Forest scions. 

Downcast, here 
In a group the violets 
Reappear. 

From the bough 
Sails the falling petal, peaked 
Like a prow. 

Yonder swings 
Home so small, it seems a yielding 
Twig that sings. 



100 A DAY IN SPRING. 

Hark! the breeze 
Of the life immortal whispers 
To the trees. 

In the field 
Gains that man an honest title 
To its yield. 

As a pearl, 
Priceless is his sweet, pure hearted 
Little girl. 

Full of joy, 
Like the oak tree in an acorn 
Is his boy. 

Who can know 
With what joy the mother passes 
To and fro! 

Day descends 
And the earthly into heavenly 
Melts and blends. 

How content 
Lies the farm 'neath God's o'er-spreadim 
Firmament. 

Minnie S. Savage. 



TREES. 

How helpful to my life are forest trees! 
Their beauty charms me, while their 

strength sustains 
My weakness, and to be a day with them 
Is as a sweet communion-day with God. 
How like a strong man stands the sturdy 

oak, 
Mightier than all his fellows ; yet he seems 
To boast not strength inherited, so much 
As from fierce battling with the elements, 
Relying not on Providence alone, 
But on himself, remembering the past, 
And how from feebleness he grew to 

strength. 
Was ever king in purple and in gold 
So grand as they in autumn's coloring ? 
A most inspiring lesson to my life 
Their beauty teaches. In it I behold 



102 



TREES. 



A type of what this human life should be 
"When the end corneth. 

Faces I have seen 
Which speak to me, e'en as these autumn 

leaves, 
Of a rich harvest safely garnered in. 
Would autumn leaves be just as richly 

dyed, 
Did only sunshine and warm summer 

showers 
Fall on them, and the dreary days come 

not? 
But e'en as glory of the king may fade, 
Or he be robbed of all his rich attire, 
So fade and pass away their glories all, 
While ever and anon the drear winds sigh 
A requiem of sadness. Yet above 
The dead leaves rustling do the days go on, 
And spring-time gladness will return 

again. 
O, in their hours of calm do trees not dream 
Of the bright days to come of bud and 

bloom ? 



Thus do they speak to me, and seem to 
teach 



TREES. 103 

The wondrous mystery of life and death. 
The first spring dandelion's bloom is 

more 
To me than all the written word ; it speaks 
Directly to the soul, and seems to be 
The voice of God. It is a thing of life, 
And what can better solve the mystery ? 
It is a procf of promises fulfilled, 
And bids us trust unfalteringly, when 
Again the dead leaves rustle 'neath our 

feet, 
And the cold snow shall cover all we love. 

O God, so many paths lead unto thee 

'Twere strange if any soul should miss 

the way. 

Ella F. Stevens. 



WHY ASK I MOKE? 

On topmost twig of a leafy tree 
Sat a plain brown thrush, and cheerily 
He chirped away, as if all that be 
Were happy, content and free. 

He had dined that day on living things : 
On worm, and insect with buzzing wings 
Unlike his own, but the life ot these 
Went out in the song's degrees. 

Why sings the thrush in the world below 

Thus happy and free, I may never know. — 

True he feeds on worms; on living 

things ; — 

But this I may know, he sings! 

I may not know how the bird to be 

Glorifies all by its melody ; — 

Like offerings then, I may not bring — 

Yet I know that bird will sing ! 

J. N. Sprigg. 
Quincy, Nov. 18, 13S3. 



SUNSET AFTER STORM. 

" A little later, the whole atmosphere is full of 
golden mist, and the gates of Eden seem open in 
the West."— John James Piatt, in ''■Pencilled Flu 
Leaves." 

The air is full of a golden mist, 

And the gates of Eden open swing, 
Where slanting sunbeams there in the 
West 
Make a Jacob's ladder to which may 
cling 
The soul of mortal that dares to climb 
To Eternity from Time. 

" Whether out of the s|Dirit or in, 

I know not," but in an hour like this 
Surely it was, St. John the Divine 

Beheld that wonderful vision of his, 
Of a city which had no need of the sun 
Since the Presence and light are 
one. 



106 SUNSET AFTER STORM. 

Sard and sapphire and chalcedon, — 
See them piling up there in the West, 

The broad foundations, stone upon stone — 
Topaz and beryl and amethyst; 

Up this golden stair did we dare to go, 

We should reach the city, I know. 

Soul of mine, why hunger and wait ? 

There — is no sorrow of death, no night. 
The light is fading. Too late! too late! 

The radiant vision is veiled from sight. 
But — we shall clirnb that stair at last 
When the storm of life is past. 
Alice Williams Brotherton. 



SAILING BY MOONLIGHT. 

Gently, O moon, we keep your wake, 
Drifting upon the wondrous tide, 
Splendor around us near and wide, 

"Wavelets that ever newly take 

Your messages of light. 

Fair transformations greet your rays ; 

Silver is now the boat's white wing ; 

Radiance like some old saint's ring 
Crowns upturned faces while we gaze; 

We too have caught your light, 

Peace such as blesses life serene! 

Brightness, like joys that overflow! 

Does even a heavenly angel know 
Bliss more complete, or holier scene ? 

We say, " 'Tis heaven to-night!" 



108 SAILING BY MOONLIGHT. 

Ay, heaven indeed! 'Tis not too soon 
While here on earth, to feel the thrill, 
Pulses harmonious, — of God's will 
Throughout the universe. O moon, 

Our souls receive your light! 
Harriet S. Tolman. 



BEACON-LIGHTS. 

The brilliant beacon-lights that bound the 

shore 
Guide safe the storm -tossed mariner to 

port : 
What matter, green or gold, or tall or 

short? 
What matter, shown from rock, or bluff, 

or tower? 
He questions not their color, size or power, 
But heeds their warning with his every 

thought : 
He heeds their warning, and the ship 

is brought 
To home and harbor in a happy hour. 

Along the headlands of life's turbulent 

sea 
Aye gleam undimmed the guiding lights 

of Love! 



110 BE A CON-LIGHTS. 

What matter, Jew, Greek, Christian, if 

the Light 
Be followed faithfully ?— It then shall be 
A Guiding Light indeed, to Ports above : 
A pillar of cloud by day, of fire by 

night, 

James H. West. 



LILIES. 

Like pure white virgins clad in robes of 

snow, 
Holding up vestal lamps of shining gold — 
Standing up, stately, in the sunlight's 

glow, 
With pale, sweet brows untouched by 

time or woe, — 
Ye are the dreams that never can grow old. 

Like martyred saints of the sad faded 

past, 
Gleaming out, whitely, on stained sacred 

pane 
Of some worn chancel — standing tall and 

still, 
With maiden hearts unknown of passion's 

thrill, 

Hallowed and pure — ye are the angels' 
strain. 

Fanny Driscoll. 



EPIG^A. 

With baby breath and baby flush, 

The firstling of the year, 
Baptized in glory from the skies, 

Is born our Epigaea. 

Pink as the hues of morning are, 

Pure as the early dew, 
Fresh as the faith in earthly love 

That happy childhood knew, — 

Our blushing flower, our woodland pet, 
Pressed close to earth's fond breast, 

Then passed from loving hand to hand 
Like babies newly dressed. 

Oh, darlings hiding in the woods, 
We've learned your shy, soft ways, 

And tracked your sweet trail in the leaves, 
Faithful through all the Mays. 



EPIGJSA. 113 

Sweet little kinsfolk, to our lives 

Your tenderer life appeals, 
Stirs the deep current of our thoughts, 

And hidden grace reveals. 

That Power which, through the wintry 
storms, 
Keeps such surprise in store, 
Midst life's thick fallen leaves may hide 
Glories undreamed before. 

Mrs. E. C. Potter. 



SUMMER CHEMISTRY. 

What does it take 
A day to make, — 
A day at the Bear Camp Ossipee? 

White clouds a-sail in the shining blue, 
With shadows dropt to dredge the lands-, 
A mountain-wind, and a marching storm, 
And a sound in the trees like waves on 

sands; 
A mist to soften the shaggy side 
Of the great green hill, till it lies as dim 
As the hills in a childhood memory ; 
The back of an upland pasture steep, 
With delicate fern-beds notching wide 
The dark wood-line, where the birches 

keep 
Candlemas all the summer-tide; 
The crags and the ledges silver-chased 
WTiere yesterday's rainy runlets raced ; 



SUMMER-CHEMISTRY. 115 

Brown-flashing across the meadows bright 
The stream that gems their malachite ; 
And, watching his valley, Chocorna grim! 
And a golden sunset watching him ! 

Add fifty lives of young and old, 
Of tired and sad, of strong and bold, 
And every heart a deej^er sea 
Than its own owner dreams can be ; 
Add eyes whose glances have the law 
Of coursing planets in their draw ; 
Add careless hands that touch and part, — 
And hands that greet with a heaven's 

sense; 
Add little children in their glee 
Uprunning to a mother's knee, 
Their earliest altar ; add her heart, 
Their feeble, brooding Providence : — 

Add this to that, and thou shalt see 

What goes to summer-chemistry, — 

What the God takes 

Each time he makes 

One summer- day at Ossipee. 

W. C. Gannett. 

Bear CampKiver House. West Ossipee, 
August, 1877. 



COMPENSATION. 

The wind blows up from the sea, 
And touches the waiting leaves, 

And bathes the toiler's brow 

As he binds his ripened sheaves. 

The pulse of the wind is cool, 
The breath of the wind is sweet ; 

So sweet to the toiler's heart 
That it compensates for the heat. 

The limbs of work drag slow 

Through the long day's tiresome sweep ; 
But he finds, what the idler seeks, 

The balm of the blessed sleep. 

The maiden loves in her youth, 
But false is her trusted friend ; 

She weeps sad tears, and dreams 
That she shall weep to the end. 



CO MP ENS A TION. 7 1 7 

But out of her woe is born 
A mind more sweet, more rare, 

Than the world has ever seen 
When all of the days were fair. 

The preacher preaches in vain, 
Not a soul will come at his call, 

But Ins heart grows humble and poor, 
And that is the best of all. 

And after many a day, 

When his life is changed to the root, 
Some other soul he shall win, 

And bear it to God as his fruit. 

The statesman labors and strives 
For a helpless people's cause, 

But blindly they choose the wrong, 
And defeat his righteous laws. 

But out of its loss and pain 
A nation will learn at length, 

And the might of a people is more 
Than the strongest statesman's 
strength. 



118 COMPENSATION. 

And though his thought may rise 
To the heights no soul hath trod, 

Though lonely evermore, 
He is lonely like a God. 

And the martyr of to-day 

Is the saint of the future years, 

And his gwatest good shall spring 
From out the crypt of his tears. 

The poet weeps through the night, 
And deems that the night is long, 

But in the morn his tears have all 
Been crystallized into song. 

And the song goes forth in the land, 
And tells it of truth and trust, 

And all that is best of life, 
Long after the poet is dust. 

Hattie Tyng Ghriswold. 






A CERTAIN HAREBELL. 

Sheer and straight to the water's edge 
Fell the precipitous granite ledge. 
Torn by the earthquake i'rom its bed, 
Worn by the glacier's heavy tread, 
And by the torrents polished, 
Proudly it bore the seams and scars 
Won in a by-gone age of wars ; 
Stern the defiance you still might trace 
Cut in the hues of its frozen face. 

Yet from a rent in the granite gray — 
Just where a cloud-bolt has torn its way, — 
A harebell, blue as the June-day sky, 
Bent to the river fleeting by. 

Think you the flower ever dreamed of the 

baDks 
Where its shy sisterhood grew, and in 

ranks, 



120 A CERTAIN HAREBELL. 

Maidenhair, fern-fronds and mosses low? 
Could it have tired of the river's flow, 
Placidly slipping and sliding by, 
And, cloud or star-strewn, the far-off sky, 
And nothing living? Say who will; 
It clung to the rock and blossomed still. 

And what did the grim old granite think 
When out there grew, from its srjlintereu 

chink, 
That delicate spirit of dew and light ? 
Did it ..earn that, e'en after its hard- won 

fight, 
Something was wanting to crown the 

whole, 
Arid there, in the harebell, find its soul? 
Lily A. Long. 



MY SONG AND MY SOUL. 

My song and my soul are one, to-day; 

To-morrow, my song is flown ; 
Or out of its reach, if it should stay, 

My pressing soul has grown. 

Then where, — in the air, or on the earth, 
Shall I find my bird or flow 7 er ? 

And what is its word, or what its worth 
Beyond the passing hour? 

'Tis not for its fragile, fairy form 

I tenderly love my song; 
An olive is borne far o'er the storm 

Whose flood beats wild and strong, 

I wait for the sign to reach my hand, 
And quiet my restless heart ; 

I list for a voice at whose command 
These depths shall draw apart. 

Minnie S. Savage. 

Feb. 2, 1SS1. 



EEFEACTED LIGHTS. 

The evening star that softly sheds 

Its tender light on me, 
Hath other place in the heavenly blue 

Than that I seem to see. 

Too faint and slender is that beam 

To keep its pathway true, 
In the vast space of cloud and mist 

It seeks an exit through. 

Nor light of star, nor truth of Gi >d, 
Through earth-born clouds and doubt, 

Can straightway pierce the hearts of men 
And drive the darkness out. 

On bent, misshapen lines of faith 

We backward strive to trace 
The love and glory that we ne'er 

Could look on face to face. 



REFRACTED LIGHTS. 123 

Each fails, through dim and wandering 
sight, 

The vision whole to see, 
But none are there so poor and blind 

But catch some glimpse of Thee, — 

Some knowledge of the better way, 

And of that life divine, 
Of which our yearning hope is both 

The prophecy and sign. 

Celia P. Woolley. 



NOT ALL THERE. 



The innocents, of whom the Scotch say, ' They are 
not all there.' " 



Something short in the making, 
Something lost on the way, 

As the little Soul was taking 
Its path to the break of Day ! 

Only his mood or passion, 
But it twitched an atom back ; 

And she, for her gods of fashion, 
Filched from the pilgrim's pack. 

The Father did not mean it, 
The Mother did not know, 

No human eye had seen it, — 
But the little Soul needed it so ! 



NOT ALL THERE. 125 

Through the street there passed a cripple, 
Maimed from before its birth ; 

On the strange face gleamed a ripple 
Like a half-dawn on the earth. 

It passed, — and it awed the city, 

As one not live nor dead ; 
Eyes looked, and brimmed with pity, — 

"He is not all there," they said. 

Not all ! for part is behind it, 

Lying dropt on the way : 
That part, could two but find it, 

Would welcome the end of Day ! 

W. C. Gannett. 



JOY. 



I have learned to love joy, not for joy's 

sake alone, 
But because of the sorrows its contrasts 

have shown. 
Wherever the sunlight falls brightest, the 

shade 
Slants longest and farthest. O I am 

afraid 
To love joy for joy's sake! — and I only 

will ask 
In its rapture and radiance and glory to 

bask 
Until my soul glows with such warm 

sympathy 
That some who are joyless may joy find 

in me. 

Ella A. Giles. 



THE VALUE OF GIFTS. 

I have learned to prize love, not for love's 

happiness, 
But because when it comes ray own glad 

heart to bless 
With its sweet, subtile perfume, its tropical 

heat, 
I am stronger life's labors and duties to 

meet. 
Withhold from me love and I care not to 

live — 
For when 'tis denied me I have less to 

give 
To the lonely and loveless. So all gifts 

I prize 
As they broaden and deepen my soul's 

sympathies. 

Ella A. Giles. 



CHEER! 

••The faithful are few," 

A young man said, 

With drooping head; 

"And men are many, 

And hard for any 
It is the right to do." 

k Turn the words about," 
An old man said, 
And lifted up his head, 
And from his eyes shone out 
A holy light and true : 

" The faithful are few, 

Say not; but rather, a few 
Are faithful; and so be you! 
For men are many, 
And strength for any 



There is the right to do.' 



James Vila Blake. 



HEKOISM. 

We honor all the conquerors of old 

Whose patient courage won such glorious 
fame 

That ever since their deeds have been re- 
told, 

And laurels wreathed around each death- 
less name. 

We live again through all their anxious 
days 

And heartsick, sleepless nights with dan- 
ger near, 

Before tormenting blame had turned to 
praise, 

And bright success had yielded honors 
dear. 

And yet I think the angels, who aright 
Can estimate each pain and know the 
cost, 



130 HEROISM. 

Look down on just such noble souls to- 
night, 

Who stand for right, though faint and 
tempest-tossed, 

And crown them heroes too in heavenly 
sight, 

Although their names may be forever lost. 
Emma E. Marean. 



FREEDOM. 

I do recall a time when I was free, 
Or seemed it so unto my youthful will, 
What time as yet Philosophy was still, 
And mystery no question had for me ; 
A very monarch seemed I then to be, — 
The while I sped adown the snowy hill, 
Or vied in boyhood's sunny pleasures — 

till 
I tasted knowledge, when I found her tree. 
But now I am to thousand masters slave, 
And myriad voices bid me come and go ; 
Still He who life's mysterious burden 

gave, 
Destroyed my fancied freedom, but to 

show 
That the sweet liberty I deepest crave 
Only in perfect service can I know. 

B. R. Bulkeley. 



BEONTE. 



Triad of noble hearts and nobler minds ! 

Needs not the worker of these happier 
years 

Think on their yearnings, trials, bitter 
tears, 

Their fond hopes long delayed till outlet 
finds 

Their best and bravest, and the dull 
world blinds 

"With blaze of genius towering o'er its 
fears; 

The Spring holds all the bounteous Sum- 
mer wears; 

In thought bloom buds desjDoiled by 
cruel winds; 

And oh! when glows the heart with pur- 
pose high, 

When work the human hands unfalter- 
ingly' 



BRONTE. 133 

How regal grows the example to the race ! 
" Too brief their span," though loitering 

age may cry, 
Call not their brave young lives a 

tragedy, 
Where Will hath won, Death wears a 

beauteous face. 

Abbie M. Gannett. 



GEOKGE ELIOT. 

On reading a Sonnet in " The Critic" so entitled. 

Linger, O world, above her place of rest, 
And muse on one who nobly wrought for 

thee, 
Who, pitying, saw thy pain and misery, 
And toiling to relieve it, so was blest. 
Brave was she, and her courage stands 

confessed ; 
For rare gifts nobly used, O brothers, see 
Her life receive its praise of victory ; 
And you, her sisters, weep not that her 

breast, 
Once warm for you, is silent 'neath the 

snow; 
Your souls wrap in the strength of her 

calm thought, 



GEORGE ELIOT. 135 

Her keen, clear vision follow to the right ; 
Tears are for those from work mi wrought 

who go, 
Or who for good have only evil brought, 
Never for those who toil in Truth's own 

light! 

Abbie M. Gannett. 



INTEGER Y1TM. 



Pure in heart and free of sin, 
Upright in thy daily path; 
Fair without and true within, 
Free from anger, safe from wrath. 

Mighty in thy silent power 

Of great virtue over wrong; 

Beautifying every hour 

By thy bearing, brave and strong : 

By thy mercy to the weak ; 
By thy justice to the low ; 
By thy grace unto the meek; 
By thy kindness to thy foe. 

Thou art free from passion's rage, 
Thou art free from envy's sting, 
Thou canst others' griefs assuage, 
Canst to others comfort bring. 



INTEGER VIT^E. 137 

Peace and rest are in thy soul, 
Bringing joy into thy life, 
Outward storms around thee roll, 
But they bring no inward strife. 

And a sinner, tired and worn, 
Weary of his life, at length 
Findeth in thy words new hope — 
Fincleth courage in thy strength. 

Florence Tyng Griswold. 



THE MINISTER'S JOURNEY. 

To J. W. C, Dec. 19, 1884. 

Not to the lanes of England, 
Cathedral-aisles of France, 

Nor up the mountain-hollows 
Where Alpine torrents glance; 

Nor in the storied cities 
And old highways of life, 

Where shadowy generations 
Have passed in song and strife; 

Where Rajmael hath painted, 

Or Socrates was born, 
Or prophets once were cradled 

In some Nazareth of scorn; 

But on a more wonderful journey 
Than any the pilgrims know 

Our traveler has been roving, — 
The book in his heart can show. 



THE MINISTER'S JOURNEY. 139 

He has voyaged with all the Captains 
Who sailed the seas of thought, 

Daring with them the tempest, 
Hailing with them the port. 

And many a dreamer's island 

Has added to Ins lore 
The hope that made it Patmos, — 

One Heavenly Vision more. 

In lands men deemed unholy 
He gleaned from every clod; 

Some treasure-trove reporting 
Horizons new of God, 

Till Heathenesse grew home-like, — 
While the traveller's tale was still 

Of the Ceaseless Care whose presence 
Out-worketh good from ill. 

And unto sacred places, 

The Palestines within, 
By pathways of the Spirit, 

Our traveller hath been. 

In still lanes of confession, 
In solemn aisles of prayer, 



140 THE MINISTER'S JOURNEY. 

On Alps of high endeavor, — 
We met him everywhere ! 

He knows the founts of laughter ; 

How psalms in mothers rise ; 
How purpose dawns in manhood, 

And love in maiden eyes. 

Along the silent beaches 

That men call Birth and Death, 

Rimming our fields of summer, 
Giving us ocean-breath, 

He paces as a watcher 
Watching the tidal sweep, 

And his greeting is full of music 
Caught from the central deep. 

The others see but Europe, 
And go as feet may fare; 

Our pilgrim, still outsailing, 
Sees many an Outre-Mer! 

W. C. Gannett. 



DEDICATION HYMN. 

O God! accept the gift we bring, — 
This house of prayer at last complete; 

Now as a grateful offering 
We gladly lay it at Thy feet. 

All was Thine own ere it was ours, 

And since 'tis ours, 'tis Thine the more, 

For we are Thine, and all our powers, — 
O Thou, our Life, whom we adore ! 

Long be these walls a loving home, 
Where rich and poor shall brothers be; 

Where strife and envy may not come; 
Where all may dwell in charity. 

Long be this spot a sacred place, 

Where burdened hearts shall meet to 
pray, 

Look upward to a Father's face 
And find their burdens melt away. 



142 DEDICATION HYMN. 

This church we dedicate to Light, — 
To Light of Truth aud Light of Love, 

To Hope, to Faith, to Prayer, to Eight, 
To niau on earth, to God above. 

As shines the light-house by the sea 
To guide the sailor on his way, 

So may this church a beacon be 

To light man onward toward the day. 
Jcibez T. Sunderland. 

Ann Arbor, Michigan, 
Nov. 1, 1882. 



DEFEAT. 

We plan and plan when life is young, 
And forward go to meet the years 
Almost without a fear; we woo 
The future; bright the way appears. 

But still do plan and purpose fail, 
Strength and occasion rarely meet, 
And midway down life's western slope, 
On everything we read — defeat. 

And as man sees, defeat is true. 
No life is rounded to its dream; 
Each soul is slain; the Best is lost; 
But shadows of ourselves we seem. 

Yet do we gain, as still we lose; 
And not impoverished by gifts, 
Not felled by failure, nor appalled 
By all we learn, — the curtain lifts 



144 DEFEAT. 

From the immeasurable years, 
And side by side ourselves we see 
As we are now, and would have been, 
Slaves and in thrall, — divinely free. 

And bitter is the burning thought 
Of failure, to th' impassioned soul; 
Drowned in the depths is sweet content, 
Even over hope the billows roll. 

But when that larger wisdom comes, 
Toward which we grope with faltering 

feet, 
I think we may have grace to thank 
God even for such sore defeat. 

For of defeat, success is born, 
And out of failure cometh strength, 
The discipline, the courage grand, 
That give proud victory at length, — 

When loss grows greater gain, and joy 
At last sits master, king, and lord, 
That joy far nobler than we sought, 
Living with God in fine accord. 



DEFEAT. 145 

On none write failure till they die, 
Souls now advance, and now retreat, 
Nor can there be while God exists 
A real and absolute defeat. 

Hattie Tyng Griswold. 



THE NEW YEAR. 

"Behold," — in vision said 

The Voice to John on Patmos — 

" I make all things new!" 

Vanish before his view 

The earth and heavens old; 

In splendor manifold 

New heavens and earth appear 

To the enraptured seer : 

And lo! descending from the skies, 

Fairer than storied paradise, 

He saw the New Jerusalem, — 

Apparelled as a bride 

With gold and precious gem, — 

And heard a Voice that cried : 

" God's dwelling is with men, 

" And He will wipe away all tears, 

"And death shall be no more, nor pain: 



THE NEW YEAR. 147 

"Passed are the things of former years: 
" Behold, I make all things new ! 
"Write: for faithful are these words and 
true." 

So speaks to thee, O heart, 

As the swift years depart 

The re-creating Voice. 

Turn not in vain regret 

To thy fond yesterdays, 

But rather forward set 

Thy face toward the untrodden ways. 

Open thine eyes to see 

The good in store for thee, — 

New love, new thought, new service too 

For Him who daily maketh thy life new. 

Nor think thou aught is lost 

Or left behind upon the silent coast 

Of thy spent years ; 

Give o'er thy faithless fears. 

Whate'er of real good — 

Of thought, or deed, or holier mood — 

Thy life hath known 

Abideth still thine own, 

And hath within significance 

Of more than Time's inheritance. 



148 THE NEW YEAR. 

Thy good is prophecy 

Of better still to be, 

In the future thou shalt find 

How far the Fact hath left behind 

Thy fondest Dreams; how deeper than 

all sense 
Or thought of thine, thy life's sure 

Providence ! 

F. L. Hosmcr. 



THE PAST. 
For us no past? Nay, what is present 



But yesterdays dissolving in to-day ? 

No past? It flowers in every new com- 
pleteness, 

And scarce from eye and ear can hide 
away. 

These berries, mottling blue the rocky 
hollow, 

Still cluster with the blossom-trick of 
June: 

The cloud-led shadows loiter there and 
fellow 

O'er crags sun-stained by centuries of 
noon: 

Yon aged pine waves young defiant ges- 
ture 

When hustling winds pant by in wild sea- 
mood: 



150 THE PAST. 

The valley's grace in all its shining ves- 
ture, — 
Ages have carved it from the solitude : 
Low sings the stream in murmurs faint re- 
calling 
The chant of floods the solitude once 

heard ; 
And this wide quiet on the lull-tops falling 
Made hush at eves that listener never 
stirred. 

And as on us it falls, our laughter stilling, 
Dim echoes cross it of all old delight ! 
The joy, along the soul's far reaches 

thrilling 
To glory of the summer day and night, 
Has been inwrought by many a summer- 

hour 
Of past selves long forgot, — enrichment 

slow, 
Attuning mind and heart with mystic 

power 
To the fresh marvel of this sunset's glow. 
I think we see our valley's brightness 

brighter 



THE PAST. 151 

For faces that once brightened by our 

side; 
The peace of the eternal mountains deepens 
Since we have gazed on faces that have 

died. 

For us no Past? Nay, what is present 
sweetness ? 

Dear yesterdays dissolving in to-day! 

The Past— it flowers in every new com- 
pleteness 

Of thought, faith, hope; and so shall be 

for aye! 

W. C. Gannett. 

Sunset on " Crow Nest," Shelburne, 
August, 1875. 



A ROUNDEL. 

"Others lie saved : himself he could not save." 

The poet's heart breathed out a song so 

rare 
Its rapture bade all earth-born cares 

depart. 
Men thought they read, revealed in 

beauty there, 

The poet's heart. 

Its words held naught of earthly sting or 

smart, 
But touched with healing comfort all 

despair ; 
In lonely lives it helped fresh blossoms 

start : 



A ROUNDEL. 153 

To many a troubled soul it seemed bke 

prayer ; 
And no one dreamed how vain its utmost 

art 
To still the weary thoughts that filled 
with care 

The poet's heart. 

Emma E. Marean. 



A CONCLUSION. 

Help us to bear the doubts we cannot 
solve, 

To keep a willing hand, a cheerful heart, 

With which to bravely do our utmost 
part, 

To heal all wrong and sin ; to help dis- 
solve, 

Into high, trustful deed and pure resolve, 

The restless yearnings of the troubled 
heart, 

Depressing fears, the doubts which burn 
and smart. 

Oh, weary thoughts that ceaselessly re- 
volve 

Within the tired brain, ye bring no rest 

Of healing on the wings strained in the 
quest 

Of truth beyond all mortal ken below ! 



A CONCLUSION. 155 

Then grant me just to do the present 

good, 
What I both can and may, not what I 

would. 
This, Lord, is all the prayer I make or 

know. 

Celia P. Woolley.. 



INDEX. 




• 


PAGE 


Blake, James Vila 




Cheer, - 


128 


In Him, - 


44 


The Old Answer to the Old Ques- 




tion, - 


29 


Sursum Corda, 


74 


Wait on the Lord, 


15 


Patience, - 


56 


Brotherton, Mrs. Alice Williams 




In the King's Name, 


24 


Outward Bound, - 


35 


Sunset after Storm, - 


105 


Wooing and Wedding, - 


63 


Brown, Edwin G. 




A Prayer, - 


45 


Bulkeley, Benjamin B. 




Freedom, - 


131 


Driscoll, Fanny 




Aster and Goldenrod, 


80 


Death, - 


26 








PAGE 


Driscoll, Fanny — Continued. 




Lilies, - 


- Ill 


Pain, ----- 


49 


Beverie, - 


- 89 


Foster, Samuel Baxter 




Love, ----- 


79 


Ways of Love, The - 


- 72 


Gannett, William C. 




Cathedral, The 


82 


" Green Pastures and Still 


Waters," 


- 9 


In Twos, . . . . 


60 


Minister's Journey, The - 


- 138 


" Not All There," - 


124 


Past, The - 


- 149 


Poem and Dogma, 


96 


Summer-Chemistry, - 


- 114 


Gannett, Mrs. Abbie M. 




Bronte, 


132 


George Eliot, - 


- 134 


Giles, Miss Ella A. 




Joy, - 


126 


Value of Gifts, The - 


- 127 


Griswold, Miss Florence Tyng 




Integer Vitce, 


136 


Griswold, Mrs. Hattie Tyng 




Compensation, - 


- 116 


Defeat, ... - 


143 


Window Picture, A - 


- 90 



158 INDEX. 

_ PAGE 

liOSMER, Feedeeick L. 

Cliildren's Service, The - - 53 

Father, to Thee, - - - 13 

Loyalty, - - - 18 

My Dead, - - - -31 

New Year, The - - - 146 

On the Mount, - - - - 86 

Long, Miss Lily A. 

Harebell, A Certain, - - 119 

His Reverie, - - - - 69 

Shadows, - - - - 93 

To Katherine, - - - - 73 

Trusting, - - - - 23 

Loed, "William S. 

Water Lilies, - - - - 41 

September Twenty-fifth, - 67 

McCaine, Miss J. E. 

I Am So Weak, ... 48 

Moods, ----- 87 

Makean, Mes. Emma Endicott 

Before the Dawn, 39 

Heroism, ----- 129 

"Not as I Will," - - * - 20 

One Woman's Work, . - - 57 

Roundel, A - - - - 152 

Vineta, - - - - - 77 

Plummer, Miss Mary W. 

" And Enoch Walked with God," 33 



INDEX. 159 



Potter, Mrs. E. C. 




Ejrigsea, - 


- 112 


Savage, Mrs. Minnie S. 




A Day in Spring, 


- 99 


My Song and My Soul, - 


- 121 


Sprigg, J. N. 




The Heart Prayer, 


- 37 


Why Ask I More? - 


- 104 


Stevens, Miss Ella F 




Trees, - 


- 101 


Sunderland, Jabez T. 




Dedication Hyrnn, - 


141 


Tolman, Miss Harriet S. 




Sailing by Moonlight, 


- 107 


Tunis, John 




Lyros, - 


7 


West, James H. 




Beacon-Lights, 


- 109 


Victory Through Suffering, 


42 


Wilcox, Mrs. Ella Wheeler 




Christ " Eejected," - 


- 43 


Creed, The - 


11 


"Eemission," - 


- 51 


Woolley, Mrs. Celia P. 




Conclusion, A 


154 


Old Question, The - 


- 28 


Refracted Lights, - 


122 



L1BRA RY OF CONGRESS 




